


In the Lights

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Reconciliation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accompanied by Obi-wan, Satine returns to Mandalore after securing her planet's neutrality in the Galactic Civil War. But they are carrying between them the weight of their past experiences and new confessions from each of them. Feelings are forbidden for a Jedi, but how does one cope with them under the lights of Mandalore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The only thing he could feel was the force. His short stay on Mandalore, despite its outward visage of peace, had done nothing for him. The consistently looming threats of Deathwatch, despite the planet's ability to maintain their neutrality through the Senate, had put a serious strain on the planet's public atmosphere.

The people were wary, when he walked through the streets, they watched him with unease and trepidation. He could not blame them, he had refused to sacrifice his lightsaber to the Mandalorian guard after what had happened on the moon during his last visit here; to the Mandalorians, anyone with a weapon and no peacekeeper army was a potential threat.

Many of his few days here had been spent in Satine's company, in her court as she oversaw the transition to a new prime ministers while Ulmec stayed in prison. They had not spoken much except for broken words and stunted conversations at formal dinners. They had been unable to discuss what had happened between them except for in the brief moments after the Senate vote. He had taken to spending all of his spare time he could manage meditating, He willed his feelings of mild betrayal, and loss into the force.

But still, even now, as he sat in the beautiful snapdragon garden that surrounded Satine's palace, he found his body burning with the urge to go and speak to her. It was almost lunchtime, he could feel the passage of time in the background as he felt the force roll over him in waves. He was entranced by their shared memories from his days as a Padawan.

He thought of the long nights, spent in the company of Satine and his master, his and the duchesses long, exhausting arguments that Qui-Gon had stayed largely out of. He released the remembered frustrations with her into the fore, but as each memory of their early time came to his mind, as did latter memories. Memories of the time after he had rescued her and tended to their wounds on the open fields of lesser Mandalore. Memories of her gentle words as she saw his graver injuries, her gentle hands as she helped him clean them, her gentle lips when they had finally been overwhelmed by the feelings that were shared between them.

He tried, with every ounce of his body, to release that memory to into the force, but his body was resistive. As he longed to speak with her, he also longed to feel her lips against his own again, to feel her body pressed against his as they had done some days later when Qui-Gon had again left them alone for what Obi-wan realized now had been too long.

It was that memory that most haunted him now, so many years later. It had stirred up feelings he had long repressed, and even here, in the Mandalorian gardens, he thought he could smell the scent that she always wore...

"Obi-wan." Her voice cut through the back of his mind, and his eyes flew open, briefly disoriented as instead of seeing her, only a large, carnivorous plant that glowed bright orange in the midday sun. "Are you alright?"

"I assumed you would be at lunch, Duchess." He rose from his sitting position, and turned to face her. Her headdress, a simple blue metal headband, gleamed brightly. His eyes met hers, and he couldn't help but smile at her.

"I grow tired of speaking with people only interested in themselves, Master Jedi." She returned the smile, and reached out a hand to his arm. "How have you been?"

He let out a long sigh, and did not answer. "I wish you would have dinner alone with me tonight, Obi. I want to be able to at least speak with you before you leave."

"Of course, Duchess." He nodded his head at her offer. "For now, I believe I will get some rest." He stepped around her, walking back to the palace. The Jedi part of him curled in protest, but his heart soared as his mind filled with memories.

He laid on the bed she had provided him in the guest chambers, running his hand through his beard, and then up through his hair slowly, trying to sleep. Eventually, memories of the past, both distant, and more recent, rolled him into a haze.

 

When he awoke, the Mandalorian sun was falling. In all of his nights spent here, he had not had, nor taken, the time to watch it set fully beyond the horizon of the planet. Much was the same tonight, as he hurriedly pulled on his boots and belt, running fingers through his hair. He glanced in the mirror, but knew that if he stared to long, he would become too fixated on how he looked to her.

But still, he changed his tunic, pulling on another light brown tunic that was at least, fresh. He looked down at his body, at the new array of scars and small burn marks that cut their way up his body. Their years spent apart had changed him, he was more damaged, he thought, and, as he pulled the tunic over him, he realized that damage might be more than just physical.

He walked through the palace, thick orange light pressing through the windows that were cut with stained glass images of the peace and prosperity of Mandalore that had thrived since Obi-wan had been here as a Padawan. Satine's private chambers were far from the throne room, where he was sure her advisors were still milling about, but they were close to his guest chambers. He turned through two hallways, nodding at one guard who did not acknowledge him.

He came to her living space at last, the table set with all sorts of small foods and drinks. No alcohol, he noticed, not even wine, only a thick sort of flavored water. She wasn't in there, and he decided to stand by the window rather than sit down. He saw half a dozen speeders, carrying needed supplies to the people still reeling from the Deathwatch threats. For once, Obi-wan saw the benefit of a neutral system, as its suns fell down, he could almost feel as though the Clone War was a far off memory that he had only bad memories of.

He heard the door open behind him, and he could not help but turn to see her come in. She was in simple clothing, not the dresses and head-wraps that he was so used to. She wore a simple shirt and pants, her hair pulled back in simple fashion that allowed for him to see her beautiful gray eyes, and the pale skin of her throat that disappeared into the collar of her jacket. "It is a beautiful world." She said, resting her thin hands on the windowsill, standing next to him.

"You have done an extraordinary job since I was here with Qui-Gon." He meant every word of it. The fragile beauty of Mandalore's peace, even though in his military mindset that there joining the Republic would be best, was amazing. Her work with it, through careful diplomacy and genuine love for her people, had brought it once again to prosperity.

"I am not the only one who has worked hard for its survival." She responded quietly. "I owe many a great deal of thanks." He turned to face her, and she turned into him. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to hold her in his arms in the dying light of the sun, but the ingrained art of him that resisted was to strong.

"Why don't we eat?" He broke the silence between them, gesturing toward the table. She gave him a small, half-smile, and sat in her usual place. He sat cattycornered to her, and examined the food. It really did look quite good, large salads in bowls, with small meats and fruits to be used as toppings. He wasn't sure what the dressing was, some sort of vinegar-base, he assumed. They ate in silence for a moment, the dressing was definitely a vinegar base, but he rather enjoyed it.

"How was your day, Obi-wan?" She said, startlingly him, who had become rather flippantly obsessed with his salad in an effort not to ask about what she had said to him only days before. "I'm sorry we have not been able to talk more."

He bit back a sarcastic remark that in order for them to have talked more since they unboarded the ship at Mandalore, they would have had to have talked at all. But that would not move them forward, and he wanted to get to their discussion. "I regret it also, Satine. I have to return to the temple soon, it was my intention to see you more while I was here." His words carried a heavy weight, and they both knew it. The last of the Mandalorian sun faded, and the small, floating lights that graced the halls of Mandalore ignited, casting them in a brilliant, faint light. They put a small glow on her cheekbones, giving her white blonde hair almost a silvery glow. He could feel his body being pulled closer to her, his knee brushing against her leg which she does not move away.

"I walked through the city, saw the people surviving and thriving, meditated, and slept." The words spilled from him in a quiet, almost whisper. "Can we talk about what we said?" He asked finally, Jedi instincts telling him not to, but somewhere, he thought he felt the force pushing him forward.

"I meant what I said to you, Obi-wan." She out down her fork, all thoughts of their barely touched dinner forgotten. This conversation was long overdue, something both had been dreading and neither had been willing to face.

"I meant what I said too." He said back softly, standing from his chair, not wanting to move away from her, but at the same time, unable to be so close to her. "But things are different now, Satine." She stood to be in front of him, dangerously close, where he could feel the heat radiating from her body. "You are in charge of this planet, these people. I am a general in a war for freedom. I cannot leave the Order as I may have long ago."

"I know, Obi-wan." There was little emotion in her voice, but she reached forward and placed her hand on the side of his face, in his beard that was softer than she thought it could be. He could feel where this was headed, the natural progression of it, but he had no strength or desire to fight it any more. "I'm not asking for that anymore."

"What are you asking for, Satine?" He said, his hands moving forward to rest softly on her hips.

"Only you, Obi-wan." She said, as they moved closer and closer together. "Not for forever, not for always, just for now. That is all I ask."

Their lips hovered maybe an inch apart as he spoke. "And that is all I can give you." And their lips, their bodies, their minds, their feelings all came together, not in a crash, but a gentle wave as Obi-wan felt the force wrap around them both in the dim lights that floated around them.

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He woke the next morning with a start. It was bright outside, too bright for his taste. His room in the temple on Coruscant had thick curtains that only opened during select times for him. He enjoyed Mandalorian sunlight, but it seemed blinding in comparison to his sleep. He felt warmth beside him on the bed, and realized his tunic was gone. He looked down at Satine, memories from long ago, coupled with new memories from the previous night swarmed in his head, and he closed his eyes to lay back on the pillows of her bed. She slept with her head on his chest, the thin blonde strands tickling.

He realized quickly that she was wearing his tunic, and not much else, but he didn't want to wake her, so he tried his best not to move. There would be time for rushing and moving and running when he was back at the temple, when he was back in the war. He kissed the top of her head, and watched her slow even breaths, felt her warm skin against his, and for the first time in a long time, he felt himself relax.

His thoughts strayed to her, how she had traced his scars with not disgust, but a reserved, quiet sadness and a gentle touch that he would forever be thankful for. His scars were marks of war, marks of soldiers that the Jedi had become. But she had not questioned them. Their shared night had not been about their ideals as a Jedi Master and as a Pacifist, not their positions as a Duchess and a General, it had been about the two of them, together again as lovers in a galaxy being torn apart by hate.

He felt her waking against him, and sighed gently, planning to revel in the feeling the next few days would bring before he returned to the life he could no longer leave behind.


	2. Chapter 2

He watched from the sidelines of her diplomatic meeting, observing her quiet leadership amongst her advisors. Her words were many, and all pulsed with the idea of a peaceful, neutral Mandalore. He longed to argue with her on those points, extracting all the details that a joint relationship with the Republic would bring to her citizens, but he had promised her he would not speak.

So instead her watched her, her professional manner only ever distracted in fleeting moments where her pale eyes swept over the heads of the Mandalore high council and rested on him instead. Thinking of their activities the previous night, he had smiled at her each time, but her eyes had flickered away each time before it could be seen, and she did not return it.

At the temple, to the anguish of his former Padawan, Obi-wan exuded patience. Even within hours long Senate committee meetings, nearly days spent in barely broken council war debate, with untrained younglings flinging lightsaber blades in ways no Jedi would ever think too, he always managed to approach things with the idea that they would be worth the full time it took to accomplish them properly. He appeared at most things, when others were at wit's end; cringing with the idea of another proliferated hour of sitting still and simply talking, with a small smile on his face and a quiet disposition.

But now, having to wait on her was driving him insane. They had made plans for lunch, and the few minutes that were lingering between now and the end of the meeting before their meal were threatening to break his legendary resolve. His mind was still buzzing from the feel of her, his body slightly aching to be near and with her again. But, seeing as how she was surrounded by fifteen high ranking members of the government, and the small issue of him being a Jedi Master, those desires were not quite possible at the moment.

He had hope though, as her eyes came to his face once again and she called for the end of the meeting earlier than he had expected. The men and women of Mandalore nodded at him respectfully on their way out, moving through the guiles of stain glass artwork that decorated the great hall of Mandalore. He forced himself to stay rooted as he waited on them to leave before turning to Satine to find that she had already made her way over to him.

She didn't touch him, afraid that even though the room seemed empty, they may not have been alone. "Are you ready for lunch then, Duchess?" He kept his words cordial, but his mouth was upturned in the half-smile/half-smirk she knew he would notice.

"Of course, Master Jedi." He extended an arm that she looped her own through, guiding them down the hall. She walked them down the hall, and his mind traced the thought that he had walked the same path to last night, his body suddenly tingling where her arm was gently resting on his. But they moved past the dining room where they had been the night before for dinner, the food they had neglected to eat cleared away. And they walked past the closed door of her private chambers, where he couldn't help but smile and look down at her.

"For a quiet man, Obi-wan, you are rather bad at hiding what you're thinking." A splash of red touched his cheeks, but he reached out with the force, feeling her own emotions from last night wrapped around her.

"I wouldn't say too much about that, Satine." His following laugh was gentle, spiking slightly as she turned a mockingly severe gaze on him. She took her arm form him, and he realized just how much he craved the contact between them. She entered numbers on a datapad, and the locked door in front of them slid open. Through it was an indoor garden, different form the ones outside, different from any garden he had ever seen. It honestly reminded Obi-wan more of the Room of a Thousand Fountains he so often graced back at the Jedi temple, with its calming water and rushing walls.

Here there was a small pond, dotted with brightly colored fish and stones. There were plants of all sizes and colors, growing to the tops of the meshed ceiling. Low panels let in the sunlight, but they were completely guarded form the outdoors. Dotted around the room were small benches, but there, in the center of the room were blankets, bunched together with a few baskets of different foods and pitchers of the fruit-based waters he had been drinking since he arrived here.

She walked in front of him, clearly enjoying their privacy in this place as she turned around to face him. She was wearing a simple blue dress, tied with a decorative, yet simple belt. Her blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, not done up in one of the eccentric styles he usually saw from her, and her eyes were sparkling, catching the natural light of the gardens that surrounded her background.

He walked to her, and took of her hands in his own, entwining their fingers together and putting his hand around her waist in what could have been mistaken for a ballroom dance. There was always that twinge of guilt when he got this close to her, but after everything he had been through, they had been through, knowing that this could not be permanent, he pushed it aside.

She came closer to him, running her hands over his covered chest, the lapels of his Jedi tunic running through her fingers before they laced together around the back of his neck. He held her close, one hand on the small of her back, the other on the small of her back.

He could feel her, the heat gentle ease with which she existed to him radiating through the disappearing space between them. He his face down to hers, and she closed the gap between them, kissing him softly. He pulled it forward gently, deepening their kiss as her fingers twisted into the ends of his hair and pulled him to her.

She was intoxicating, and when they finally broke apart, he knew that no matter how many times they kissed, it would never be enough to satisfy the burning inside of him. "Are you sure we're alone in here?"

"I'm the only one who can open the door." She said, leaning into his chest. He rested his chin on her head, pulling her into an embrace.

"We should eat." She laughed.

"I was a little hungry this morning." She smiled up at him, pulling him over to where they had lunch laid out before them. He grinned back at her, a rare, full-toothed smile. They had abandoned what had remained of their dinner the night before in the face of other activities, and this morning, when he had woken up, the empty pang in his stomach had been one of the first things he had noticed. It had been more than worth it, of course, but easily avoidable.

They settled onto the blankets, and she started pulling out foods, arranging them in decorative patterns on the plates that rested in front of them. He shifted his body, his leg resting against hers as he poured them twin glasses of water. He closed his eyes, letting the rest of his sense fill with her, even as, creeping into the back of his mind, his return to the temple loomed only days away.

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He wasn't one to sit shirtless anywhere. He had always been modest, and as he had gotten older, his body had become more and more scarred. He kept his clothes on, choosing typically to wear at least two tunics to cover his upper body.

But here he was, sitting shirtless, leaning backwards onto a ledge, his tunic spread out on the far end of the blanket, soaking wet where Satine had accidentally tossed it too close to the shore of the pond who gentle waters had soaked heavily into the thick cloth. He was leaned back on the lifted ledge between two plants, his back kept off the cool marble by one of the pillows that had been spread around the blankets. Satine leaned against him, her dress pulled back on, her head lolling sleepily against his shoulder.

They had bene speaking in quiet tones, the protective quiet of her private guards having given both of them the final peace of mind that even their coming together the night before, and again only an hour or so ago, had not. They were finally fully alone, no threat of interruption, with proof that their love was more than a culmination of lost twenty-year old feelings. If that had been the case, the night before would have been the end of it, and slowly physical satisfaction would have been the easily completed goal.

But now they sat, caught between competing rays of light through the shaded panels, talking of things that would have been on no consequence to another. He spoke of his years training Anakin, glossing over his torture on Rattatak (he had no desire to relieve that himself, but the relief he felt as she had kissed him after his mention of it could not be understated), had explained the story behind the tick burn scars on his left arm and leg from Dooku, talked of his missions, both good and bad in the War he was due to return to. She spoke of the rebuilding of her country, of her nephew Korkie and her pride in the democratic ideals Mandalore had managed to uphold. There were shared stories, shared kisses, shared caresses that glowed with the aftermath of intimacy.

Obi-wan laid there with her for longer than he could have ever imagined, feeling quite selfish as the light started to fade around them. But for once, despite every fiber of his Jedi body telling him it was wrong, that his selfish attitude needed to stop, that having this kind of relationship with Satine, was wrong.

"What's bothering you?" She moved her head back to look at him, and he realized that his muscles were tensing. He looked down at her, her intelligent eyes looking back at him with genuine concern, but also with a hint of the usual guarded expression. He let out a breath, loosening his body, glad his tunic was wet so he could feel her this closely.

"Nothing." And, as he held her gaze, and moved to kiss her, he realized he wasn't lying.


	3. Chapter 3

He twisted his fingers with hers, not wanting to relinquish his touch on her as it was their last day together for what could forever. He was due back at the Council tomorrow, his premise of the diplomatic mission of returning the Duchess safely seeming very unimportant. He had risen well before dawn, as was his normal habit when at the temple or on the battlefield, something he had been forgoing in his nights spent with the Duchess' company.

She had been sleeping beside him, in fact, he was positive that of all the people in the palace, perhaps four besides himself would have been awake at that hour. And they were being paid to keep watch. He had moved her gently off of his body, where her arm was lying on his chest, and her head was resting gently on his shoulder. Her skin was warm on his bare chest, she had taken to sleeping in his tunics each night, leaving him uncovered from the waist up. He had come to enjoy it, not feeling exposed, but being able to stay so close connected to her, even after the time for intimacy had passed.

He had moved from the bed that morning, though; compelled by some force he couldn't name and begun his morning routine. He had showered and dressed, taking a few extra moments to fix himself so that he might look presentable. In the days he had spent here, they had abandoned most pretense of his staying in the guest quarters, and all of his clothing and items had been moved to her room. It made it easier to get ready each day, but more difficult to look into the eyes of the elderly guard that brought them a tray of pastries each morning after Satine's morning shower. But the man was kind, and always some kind of quiet comment about young love, and his wife who had passed away the year before. He was oblivious to Obi-Wan being a Jedi, and they had managed to avoid the other guards as he left her quarters each day. For both facts, he was very grateful.

Now, they were sitting on a bench overlooking the business district of her great city. She was close to him, not pressed against him but touching by their fingers. He watched a small family move through one area, a young girl stopping to examine an array of brightly colored fruits and nuts on a cart. Her brother found more interest in the racks of meat, even as the parents had bypassed both to buy loaves of bread from a small market stand. It was a tranquil scene for Obi-Wan to watch, one that he was not used to after seeing so many war torn worlds, where food was a scarce commodity and to have a market set you up as a target for bombings.

"Is there something I can interest you in, Duchess?" He rubbed a small circle over the back of her hand with his thumb, gesturing with the other to the dozens of carts that were peddling trinkets and small pieces of art. Her eyes, he noticed, had been watching the same family that he had been, the boy and girl now chasing each other past a man rolling a cart of vegetables, yelling about his low prices. Her expression startled him it was one of acute loss, perhaps even pain. He looked away from her, unable to look into her eyes when he knew the reason behind her feelings.

If he had stayed, if she had made that request of him so many years ago, then they would probably have a child. Or more than one child. The thought, that could have been such a happy one to man who had never had an actual family, only hurt him. But he could not change the past, and he knew that in all reality, she was aware of that as well. And he could not stay with her here, despite all that the last two weeks had done to convince him.

"Let's go the water." Unlike her usual behavior, when she waited on him to take her hand, she pulled him from the bench, her old bemused expression returning to her features. He walked at her side, their arms interloped, where the warm light of the Mandalorian sunshine could shine equally on both of them.

"I can't say I've been down to the seaside, Satine." He had abandoned her title days ago, unless he was teasing her. He had perhaps meant to now, but the sea had almost taken his breath away. The water wasn't blue, it was perfectly clear, the bottom of the sea floor shining up at him, his eyes flowing the darting of shallow-water fish, and catching the glint off of a dozen semi-precious stones that littered the bottom of the ocean. She tugged his arm down to sit next to her on the white sand.

"But you have, Obi-Wan." She didn't release his hand, they rested entwined together between them on the sand. Obi-Wan vaguely thought what Anakin would think of all this sand, before he fully registered what she had said. And realization hit him. It was not on this side of the ocean that they had last sat together, it was on the opposite, so many years ago. Qui-Gon had gone on a scouting mission, leaving them alone. It had been after he realized he loved her, after they had kissed, after they had consummated their mutual feelings. But it had been a conversation very similar to how this one felt.

She had asked him of the Jedi Code, what all it entailed. He couldn't lie to her, even if he had wanted to, she would have seen through anything he could have tried to sell her. It had been the moment that they both had realized that they could not be themselves and be together. Much like it was now, with his departure set for the morning and both of their lives existing in very separate spheres. He had let the world pass around them that night, most of that evening spent in silence, the light of their fire casting small lights on the fish and rocks that had stood in the water.

"I remember." He wasn't sure what she wanted him to say, but he only had the truth for her. He looked into her face, she didn't look like she was feeling the pain she had earlier, she looked content, actually. He followed her gaze, seeing only the water and the light reflecting off of it; and realized that it was indeed quite peaceful, but also indicative of her choice so long ago. She had chosen Mandalore, and let him return to the Jedi, as a result it was prosperous. But he remembered their conversation, her look only moments ago, and knew the sacrifice she had made; it mirrored his own.

"Let us return, Obi, and enjoy our last day before you're again needed in the war." She stood, and as quickly as they had come to the water's edge, it disappeared behind them. Before they left the beach however, she turned to him, and, meeting him halfway, kissed him softly, mirroring their motions from two decades before.

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He woke before her again, now light except stars shining through her curtains. He didn't move from the bed, instead, he pulled her closer, inhaling her scent and reveling in the feel of her body sleeping softly against his. He could die in the war tomorrow, lose everything that he had worked for in his life as a Jedi, but that would not change these moments spent together. He simply laid there, brushing his fingers through her hair, letting the lights creep in a gently wake her.

"Thank you, Satine." She had not heard him, nor could he bring himself to repeat the words to her. This was the end of this part of their lives, the only part they had really been able to spend together. It would hurt to leave, he could already feel the ache settling into his chest, but it would also be worth everything. Her body, her heart, her mind, her soul, had been fully with his for the last few days. It was more than he could ever have asked for, and feeling her gently stir against him, it was more than ever thought he deserved.


End file.
